


For Heroes Proved

by neverthelessthesun



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Airplanes, Anal Sex, Day At The Beach, Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, Feel-good, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hotel Sex, Hotels, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Memorial Day, Mentioned: Bedbugs, Mentioned: Panic Attacks, Mentioned: Religion, Motorcycles, Oral Sex, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Returning Home, Road Trips, Sappy, Self-Discovery, Steve Rogers Speeds, Steve Rogers's Motorcycle, Vacation, look sex isn't the point of this fic but it is featured, wear a helmet when riding a motorcycle please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-14 23:50:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17518196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverthelessthesun/pseuds/neverthelessthesun
Summary: Steve and Tony take a much-needed vacation: a road trip around the good ol’ U S of A.





	For Heroes Proved

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and thanks for clicking! 
> 
> The title of this piece is from a verse of “America, the Beautiful”:
> 
>  
> 
> _Oh, beautiful for heroes proved_  
>  _In liberating strife,_  
>  _Who more than self their country loved,_  
>  _And mercy more than life!_
> 
>  
> 
> Idk it just reminds me of Steve. 
> 
> Beta-read by [riseupwiseupeyesup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/riseupwiseupeyesup) and jf4m. Any mistakes are mine!

They get up before dawn. The slow seep of fog between the towers of the Manhattan skyline greets them, and though the crowd of traffic is unrelenting, this seems as close to sleeping as New York ever gets. Tony yawns into his coffee mug and snuggles closer to Steve’s side as they take a cab to the airport. 

“Not a long flight,” Steve promises, nose pressing into his hair. Tony only hums and sips more coffee. 

The flight truly is quite short, and because of their Avengers status, they mostly get to skip TSA. Tony remembers taking off, but Steve has to shake him awake when they land in Philly an hour later. 

“Remind me why we didn’t just take the Iron Man suit,” Tony grumbles, hauling his bag behind him as he follows Steve’s broad shoulders through the crowd. Steve only smiles and rolls his eyes.

Finally they make it out of the airport and to the parking lot. The sun is well and truly up, now, shining down in uncharacteristic brilliance for mid-May. Though they are surrounded by cement and the tangling strip roads of the airport, Tony feels like he has more space to breathe than he has had in a while. 

Steve takes them to a corner of the lot with labelled parking spots for politicians and special visitors. One spot is set aside with **CAPT STEVEN ROGERS** typed in bold font, both on the sign and on the paving in front of the spot. Steve rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. “When I asked if I could pay for long-term parking here, they insisted.”

“I bet they didn’t let you pay, either,” Tony chides. Steve says nothing, which is as good as a “yes” from him. 

Under a dust cover, in the direct center of the spot is Steve’s bike. It is shining like it had just been waxed, oiled and full of gas. Tony’s bag only barely fits on the back of it, but they get everything strapped down well enough. Steve produces two helmets from nowhere, and helps Tony fit his before swinging his leg over the bike and turning her on. She purrs like a kitten. 

“I’d purr like that, too, if I had you straddling me,” Tony flirts from behind his visor. 

A few minutes later, with little fanfare, they pull out of the airport and jump on the highway. Steve wants to make it to Toledo by dinner. 

The road is long and hilly in places, but most of the state is dense, flat cornfields. They whip by, uncaring as two of the most powerful people in the world weave between them—but then everything seems small in those fields. Tony is used to feeling small, living in such a big city, but this is a different sort of small feeling. This makes the world feel boundless. The only things keeping the world together are the corn and the thin, everlasting strip of road ahead and behind them. He shivers despite the sun and Steve’s radiating warmth at his front. 

They stop for lunch in a town called Donegal, south of Pittsburgh. It is so tiny that the only fast food is a Subway and McDonald’s, which turns Tony’s stomach just to think about. He doesn’t have to say anything, though, for Steve pulls into a local diner with dark wood-paneled walls and a cheerful waitress. Tony eats until he is full and tips two hundred percent. 

They are back on the road without stopping long. Steve hums a tune, but it’s lost in the wind as their path weaves slowly north. Tony smiles into the back of his shirt and feels the vibrations in his hands where they cling to Steve’s chest. 

Steve drives them off the fastest route when they draw closer to Ohio, nudging the bike towards Cleveland instead of going straight through the state. They arrive a little behind schedule but breathless at the expanse of Lake Erie sprawling out before them. The drive from then on is punctuated with glimpses of the blue-grey water to their right as they speed onward, racing the dying sun. 

They make it to Toledo as the night truly set in. The motel Steve had booked was clean and mostly empty, at least, and Tony finds that, though he hadn’t spoken or done much all day, he is exhausted. Without a second thought he falls asleep on the lumpy bed.

.o0o.

The next morning, Steve wakes him up with his tongue lapping at the base of Tony’s cock and the back of his throat coaxing his orgasm out of him. He cries out.

“Ah, Steve!” 

Someone bangs on the wall behind his head, making him jump and accidentally choke Steve further before he pulls off. They grin at one another. 

“It _is_ only six thirty,” Steve whispers, crawling up Tony’s body to kiss him, come-and-morning-breath and all. 

“Hmm,” Tony murmurs in response, slipping a hand into Steve’s sleep shorts until he, too, is screaming so loud that their neighbors complain once more. 

They are straddling the bike again less than half an hour later. The day is overcast, but not threatening rain, according to Steve, so they press on, Tony paying less attention to their route and more to the towns and scenery they pass along the way. 

Only two and a half hours later, they are heading north again. This change, Tony does notice, because by his math, there is very little country left in that direction. He tries to communicate this to Steve, but he only nods and keeps driving. Finally they pull off the highway in another town, this time with water on their left. 

“Saint Joseph, Michigan,” Steve explains, pulling off his helmet to reveal sweaty, tousled hair. “You know, my ma always liked Saint Joseph. Jesus’ pa, you know? And, well. I suppose her pa wasn’t around, and with my pa gone…” he sighs. “We coulda done with a father figure, I suppose.”

Tony stays quiet and lets the moment sit with them. Steve knows about his own daddy issues already. He’d found that, when Steve referenced his catholic background, it was best to listen and learn, and not try to understand. 

Steve leads them to the water’s edge in a public park, one with piers and beachgoers even at this early day in the year. There is a carousel not far from shore, as well as an ice cream stand already open for business. Children splash in the shallows, shrieking as the waves crest a little too high and soak their clothes with cold water. 

Tony looks out over the joyous scene, and though the weather is cloudy, it seems to be bright and happy regardless. Steve holds his hand as they walk barefoot down the beach. 

By the time they make it back to the motorcycle, their toes are covered in wet sand and their hair is windblown. They clean off as best they can, but Tony still has the grit of sand on the inside of his socks for the rest of the day. 

Skirting around Chicago turns out to be the right choice, for even so they are caught in traffic. They make it to Davenport, Iowa before the sun sets and Steve proclaims they won't go further. This time they get a proper hotel, at Tony’s insistence. 

“I’m not going to last many more nights like last night, darling. I’m soft, and my back needs to be pampered. If I don’t treat myself right, I’ll start aging again. Do you want to be dating a crippled, wrinkled Tony Stark?” 

But alas, Steve only hugs him tight and tells him, “You know I’ll love you no matter what you look like.” 

This hotel has a bar, but Tony stays well away, opting to take a dip in the jacuzzi instead. This choice has the intentional side effect of making Steve gaze at him proudly for continuing to overcome his addiction, but also the unforeseen side effect of Steve joining him in the jacuzzi, mostly naked. 

Generally, a mostly naked Steve is a welcome addition to Tony’s day, but he finds that in this instance, the married women watching over their kids at the pool are tittering and staring too much for his comfort. So before too long he hauls them up to their room and lets Steve fuck him against the heavy suite door. 

Afterward, Steve snorts when Tony answers what had brought on their impromptu lovemaking. “ _They were married_ ,” Tony defends, swatting at his lover’s shoulder as he chuckles. “And they were staring at you. The kids were right there, Steve, and they’re still staring.”

Steve only laughs at him some more, and then presses a dozen kisses to his face and neck. “Thank you for protecting my virtue.”

Tony huffs, but he melts under Steve’s attentions. They fall asleep in each other’s arms.

.o0o.

Riding the motorcycle is uncomfortable for Tony the next morning, after their rambunctious wall-fucking the previous night, but he powers through as best he can. If Steve makes excuses for them to stop and walk around more than he really needs to, well. Tony isn’t going to complain. 

Because of their slower pace, They make it to Sioux Falls just as Tony’s stomach starts to remind him of its existence. 

“I thought we’d be covering more ground than this,” Tony grouses at dinner—yet another local place that Steve had intuitively discovered. 

“What’s the rush?” Steve replies, after politely swallowing his bite of fish. “There’s lots to see.”

They’re in South Dakota, Tony doesn’t point out, which only claims to fame are Mount Rushmore and not being North Dakota. Still, he has to admit that the trip hasn’t been dull, even though they’ve said almost nothing to each other all day. He shrugs and lets Steve have that win.

.o0o.

Despite his adage that they’re not in a rush, Steve does step on it bright and early the next morning. Tony’s starting to wear down his patented lack of a sleep schedule, mostly with the aid of coffee and Steve kisses. They’re headed towards Montana before seven. 

The countryside is emptier here, fading from lush green fields to drier prairies and finally to the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. Parts of the land are so desolate that they almost run out of gas between rest stops. Steve, ever-prepared, pulls a few spare gallons from his duffel and tops them up on the side of the road, so they make it out okay. 

Montana might be the most beautiful thing Tony has ever seen. They stop for a fill-up and a quick bite to eat in Billings, and the harsh bluffs bathed in golden afternoon light are like nothing he’s ever seen before. “I need to stop flying everywhere,” he mutters to Steve, who is also slack-jawed beside him. 

They make good time after that, flying down the highways at over eighty miles per hour just to match traffic. Tony remembers reading somewhere that, until recently, Montana had no speed limit on the highways. He laughs as Steve weaves between trucks and cars, clutching him harder than he has since they left Philly. 

They come to a stop outside a log cabin facade, its large glass windows facing the setting sun. Steve wheedles his way into a room at a full motel with his All-American innocence, not even pulling the “I’m Captain America” card. The antlered animal on the wall of their room is unrecognizable to Tony, but it makes Steve smile, so he puts up with having a dead thing above his head all night.

.o0o.

Tony wakes up alone, with a sticky note on the pillow beside him. He’d obviously rolled over it in his sleep, star-fishing over the mattress in Steve’s absence. He un-crumples one corner to read _gone for a run, be back soon. x_ in Steve’s perfect handwriting. 

He grabs the complimentary bathrobe from the hook on the wall and stumbles down the hall until he finds stairs to the main floor. There, a continental breakfast with coffee is being served. He fills and empties three cups before Steve returns. 

“Hello, darling,” he greets, running an affectionate hand through Tony’s bedhead. “Good to see you up. You’re going to love it here.”

It turned out that ‘here’ was Yellowstone National Park, and that Steve had just taken his morning run in the park itself. They spend all day hiking around, taking in the sights. Tony, though he is an active person by nature, has more trouble than normal keeping up with Steve. 

“It’s the elevation,” a tour guide warns them. “There’s literally less oxygen up here for you to breathe. I’m surprised your friend there isn’t suffering from elevation sickness as well.”

“My _boyfriend_ is just special,” Tony corrected, slinging an arm around Steve. 

“Say, you know who you guys look like?” the tour guide asks a little loudly. They move on.

.o0o.

Yellowstone is full of natural geysers, rock formations, volcanic activity, and wildlife so sensational that Tony can’t help but get lost in the pure science of it all. He mentions offhand that he could spend days here, and Steve says, “Alright,” and before he knows it, they are booking another three nights with the creepy deer-head thing. Joy.

But the thing is, Tony really enjoys it here. He feels like a kid for the first time in a while, surrounded by science in nature happening real time, before his very eyes. He takes a billion pictures to send to Bruce. He gets too close to a fumarole and almost falls in. He sets up an impromptu science lesson for a school group on a tour, pissing off their guide but enchanting the children and parents alike. Even on the one day it rains, he is exploding at the seams just to get the chance to observe the changes in the ecosystem. Steve watches him with a fond gaze, always at hand if Tony wants him, but mostly enjoying Yellowstone through Tony’s eyes. 

Finally on their fourth day, Tony admits it’s time to move on. He’s been getting gradually less and less sleep with the bizarre taxidermy hanging above him at night.

The next day they’re up with the sun and gone, and Tony feels glad to be back on the motorcycle again, the countryside blowing past. Steve drives more carefully on the winding mountain roads, where the slightest misstep could send them hurtling over a cliff. The clouds are even with them in places, and they marvel at the unpeopled valleys below. 

By nightfall they make it to North Bend, Washington, on the outskirts of Seattle. The light pollution is noticeable here, especially after so many nights in Montana, but the rich forests of the west coast are only just at their backs. Nine days since their journey started, and the Pacific Ocean is so close, Tony can smell it on the air. He falls asleep dreaming of salt water and sand.

.o0o.

They drive into Seattle with the morning rush, to Steve’s dismay. he grumbles about traffic until they are in sight of the Space Needle, and then he only shuts up when Tony mentions they should stop for some nice seafood. They spend half the day sightseeing along the Puget Sound. When Tony announces he’s seen enough fish for one day, they hop back on the bike and trek slowly southwest. The land is green again, almost more lush than the east coast, and Tony spies wildflowers on nearly every slope. 

They come to a stop in the little town of Cannon Beach, Oregon, just as the tide is going out. The sun sets as they explore the tide pools. Tony finds a few starfish and some coral. Steve, of course, has an eagle’s eye, and even spots a vibrant crab. They troop back in from the ocean, shivering but laughing, eyes alight with the joy of discovery. 

That night, sleeping in an AirBnB with a skylight above the bed, Tony counts stars and listens to the sounds of thunder approaching over the sea.

.o0o.

The next morning dawns rainy and dark, but everything seems almost magical in the cloud cover. “We didn’t have any rain in Washington,” Steve points out, handing Tony a mug of hot tea. “We were past due.” 

“Is the bike okay?” Tony asks, tugging on Steve’s sleeve until he cuddles up next to him on the loveseat. 

“She’s fine,” Steve assures. “I had her covered up last night.”

They spend the day indoors, occasionally raiding the tea cupboard but otherwise enjoying the sight of rain drenching the beach and one another’s company. By this, Tony means they fuck on every available surface when they get bored. The whole apartment stinks of sex by the time they’re finished.

.o0o.

The next morning, the weather has cleared, and Steve checks the forecast to be sure they can make it to Sacramento without a deluge. They can, so after breakfast they hit the road once more, and make good time through wine country. The greenery is nearly overpowering in northern California, giving way to mountains lovelier still than those they’d seen before. 

Sacramento lights up the horizon at sunset, and though the skyline is not as impressive as the one at home, they admire it all the same.

.o0o.

Steve makes an executive decision to skip Las Vegas, much to Tony’s dismay. He would have loved to see Steve, blushing up to his ears, attempt to turn down a sex worker without offending her. Nevertheless, they make brilliant headway through the deserts of the American Southwest, and by the time they reach Ely, Tony is ready to never set foot on sand again. 

The desert is beautiful, though, in its own way. Not as grandiose as the mountains, nor as placid as the lakes and oceans. Still, it does seem endless, almost like the cornfields of the midwest. It drives on relentlessly, nearly impenetrable aside from the straight, weathered freeways that criss-cross it. Tony couldn’t imagine covering this ground without an engine and wheels underneath him. Even with the bike, he feels vulnerable to the elements—like, for the first time since starting this trip, he’s found a place he couldn’t tackle on his own.

Then again, there is life here. Not just the occasional small town, but also desert sheep and foxes, snakes and even birds. The coyote calls ring out at night, audible even from the safety of their motel in town.

.o0o.

They ride across Utah in a single day, and Tony, once again, revises his opinion of the most beautiful place in the country. The pavement beneath them turns an almost startling red color, matching the rocks surrounding them on all sides. 

Grand Junction is reached by mid-afternoon, but at the urging of the waitress at yet another amazing local restaurant (Steve must have a sixth sense for these places) they decide to spend the night here and take on the mountains in the morning. “Folks that don’t know where they’re going will get so lost up there, they’ll never find you,” she promised solemnly, and though Tony guessed that he and Steve would have been fine, he acquiesced to the easier timeline. 

The Rockies were just as gorgeous the second time around. Steve spent the remaining daylight hours sketching them. They watched the foothills turn vibrant orange in the dying light, and Steve swore that he’d never get the color or scale to translate onto paper.

.o0o.

Day fifteen dawns hot. It’s the hottest weather they have encountered since the beginning. “I’m grateful,” Steve grins cheerfully at Tony over breakfast. “It means the mountain temperatures will be nicer.”

He’s right, of course. As they ascend from forty-five hundred feet to over fourteen thousand, the temperature drops dramatically, almost to the point that Tony needs a jacket. The top of Grays Peak looks out over many more mountains and valleys, mottled with the shadows of hundreds of fluffy white clouds. The air is so thin up here, it feels like there’s something constricting his chest when he breathes in. He nearly panics, but then Steve’s warm hand is on his back, and he takes deep breaths, and he is suddenly exhilarated. 

They come back down the mountain and make it to Denver before the light goes. The mountains lie entirely to the west, now, the listless flatness of the Great Plains stretching out to the east. The city seems broad to them, growing out instead of up like New York is wont to. 

Tony takes the time to wreck Steve that evening, tonguing his cock and balls until he shudders from overstimulation. Steve is still staring blankly at the ceiling, chanting Tony’s name under his breath while Tony rubs off against his thigh. As he comes, Steve murmurs “I love you,” with as much voice as he can muster. Tony explodes all over the sheets.

.o0o.

The quickest way to Oklahoma City is straight east, then straight south. Tony complains that this is the most boring leg of their trip yet, and even Steve has to admit that Kansas can’t compete with the days of mountains they just experienced. Still, they make decent headway, and by the time they hit Wichita they’re seeing some changes to the landscape. There are trees, finally, and grass that doesn’t look out of place. 

The thing that strikes Tony about Oklahoma is the people, more so than anything. They’re all…kind. It’s clear this place is about as far from New York or LA as they can get, and still see people at all. Even when Steve kisses Tony sweetly on the cheek, only one or two people turn away in disgust. That’s a better ratio than you get at home, some days.

.o0o.

Oklahoma City to Memphis is a seven hour drive, normally. But this Saturday, it was packed with traffic nearly the whole drive. “It’s Memorial Day Weekend,” Steve finally remembered when they stopped for lunch. “We might get there by dinner.”

It ends up taking them nearly ten hours, and most of that extra time is spent idling in traffic around the city. Finally they give up and find a shitty hotel in West Memphis that isn’t booked solid. For the first time, Tony wished they had a car. That way they could sleep in it instead of risking bedbugs in this hellhole.

.o0o.

Fortunately, the next day’s traffic was much less. It was noticeably more populous than some of their previous stretches of road, however, with more towns and cities the further east and south they went. 

The state of Alabama made Tony nervous, what with all the bigotry horror stories originating there. He didn’t take kindly to people telling him he should curb his more “flamboyant” behavior, and around Steve, he was very unapologetically in a homosexual relationship. 

It isn’t a problem, on this trip. It turns out that when facing off against Steve’s brawn, no one much wants to say anything nasty about either of them. They make it all the way to Panama City Beach without event.

.o0o.

Steve wants to see the Everglades, and Tony wants to lay on a beach, so they make it to South Florida the next day. After a good night of rest, Tony begrudgingly follows Steve around a forest for a few hours, secretly enjoying Steve’s awed looks toward the sky. The trees were magnificent, but when they did finally make it to the beach once more, Tony finally had the chance to relax like he’d envisioned. It was so nice they took two days to move on. 

They made it to Savannah on the evening of Day twenty-three. Tony sees the end of their national road trip in sight, so he convinces Steve to stay an extra day and make the trek out to Hilton Head. It’s a lovely island, and Savannah’s historic architecture makes Steve nostalgic, so he agrees. They have drinks on the beach, using the time off the road just to talk and tell stories. It’s one of Tony’s favorite stops. 

“Do you wish we had stopped more? Done more things? The Grand Canyon, Saint Louis, New England, all of Texas…” Tony asked Steve.

“I am very glad we didn’t do Las Vegas,” Steve muttered, and there was that blush Tony had been looking for. “But the rest of it? It’s just incentive to get out here another time. What do you say, Tony? Want to come on another road trip with me?”

“I’ll go anywhere as long as it’s with you,” Tony simpered, but they both knew he meant it. They made out on the beach without a care for who was watching after that.

.o0o.

Thinking about going to yet another beach after the last two has Tony feeling bored, so instead they turn to Roanoke, Virginia. There they enjoy the foothills of the Appalachians. While not as imposing as the heights of the Rockies, they were still scenic, and bursting with flowers in June. 

They find some hiking trails in the Blue Mountains that have horseback tours, and Steve looks like he will cry if Tony doesn’t come with him, so they end up on horses for an hour. Tony complains of back pain. It backfires, though, because Steve refuses to touch him until he’s feeling better. Tony grumbles under his breath, pressing his boner pointedly into Steve’s hip until he falls asleep.

.o0o.

They spend three days total in Roanoke. Not because either of them has an affinity for the place, but because it is so clearly the last stop before home, and though they’ve been gone almost a month, the thought of ending the trip seems unbearable. Finally, though, on day twenty-seven, Natasha calls them. Steve misses the call, and the message is vague, but they know she wouldn’t call if they weren’t needed back at Avengers HQ. The next morning, with a heavy heart, Tony watches Steve fill up the motorcycle and give her a final maintenance check. 

The drive back to the airport feels final, but comforting. They’re returning to real life, after all—a life with friends and jobs they enjoy and each other. Despite all the wonderful things they have seen, it still feels nice to be heading back to their landing place. Home, Tony supposes. The word feels nice to say. 

Philly traffic is just as bad as he remembers, and Steve’s parking spot still says **CAPT STEVEN ROGERS**. It feels like a lifetime since he’s seen those letters. He feels the weight of what they represent settle on them both. 

“Let’s go home,” Steve says, hugging Tony to his side.

“Yeah,” Tony agrees. “That’s sounds nice.” 

They turn as one and leave the bike in its place, ready for another great adventure.

.o0o.

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> If any of you are wondering, Steve and Tony’s journey put around 8,500 miles (13,680 km) on the bike, at the very minimum. It can be done in as little as 5 days 16 hours, if driving absolutely non-stop. A realistic time frame (with potty breaks and sleep) would be closer to 12 days. 
> 
> It took our boys 28 days to complete the trip. Their longest driving day was from Sioux Falls to Yellowstone, which is a total of 12 hours 36 minutes, according to Google Maps. Having done that trip myself, I can state that with rest stops for a hardy traveling team, it takes around thirteen hours forty minutes. Most days of driving were closer to the 7/8 hour mark.
> 
> I have been to all the places mentioned by name except Sacramento and Oklahoma City. For those, I rely on a testimony from a friend of mine. Sorry if I skipped your favorite American destination! I probably haven’t been there yet.
> 
> This fic truly is a love letter to my country. I love living in America, I love America’s people and places and ideals. I wanted to explore that—specifically the places—in this writing. I think it’s easy for me to forget the good and only see the bad sometimes, so I wanted to remember what I love so much about this place. We have our faults, for sure. But what's here is worth saving.
> 
>  
> 
> As always, comments are my favorite thing ever!
> 
> I got back on [Tumblr](https://nvrthlessthsun.tumblr.com/) because I have no impulse control so follow me or w/e.


End file.
